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Topic: The crystal light (Read 23614 times)

A bright light shone on the horizon, everything that the light touched shrivelled and died leaving behind a line of decay and death. The cause of this tragedy was a bright crystasl orb floating just of the west banks of Kypen the city of gold. The city was in distress everyone running here and there collcting there belongings trying to escape the light.

Meanwhile in the southern continent there led a young girl just turned 19 looking up at the bright blue sky, she wore warrior garments of the Tellaborder city, a rich magneta armour covered her body, although it was light it was strong, underneath this she wore a casual pair of black trousers and a top to match. By her side was a long silver sword which shimmered beutifully in the morning sun, in it's hilt many diffrent colored jewels were encrusted in an accentric pattern. Her long black hair fell across the dew covered grass, her bright blue eyes shone in the light making them seem like the top of a river with clear blue waters. Slender features made her face seem more pretty than when you looked first, her lips were a bright blood red and her cheeks were a pale pink. Melody sat up and watched as one of the soldiers walked up the hill towards her "News from Kypen, the light has returned, it is making it's way towards the city shall we send word to the other citys to evacuate?" Melody shook her head "It's time that we done something about this! we must put a group together to go to the northern continent i will go to the inns and find people who are willing to go on this mission." The soldier nodded and walked off back down the hill. Melody streached and stood up brushing her hair down and smoothing out her undergarments. she bent down and picked up her sword and attached it to her side, she took a deep breath and walked towards the town. In the town there were all diffrent shops in a row with inns placed systematically along the line, Melody walked into the first shop "I need 20 leaflets saying that there is going to be a mission to the northern continent to try and destroy the crystal orb emitting the light" the shop keep nodded and went to his back room, after a couple of minutes the shopkeep came back holding a bundle of papers in his arm. he handed them to melody and she walked out pinning one on the door as she left. after posting all of the leaflets she walked into 'The headsmans' inn which had been put as a meeting place on the leaflet. Melody ordered an ale and went and sat on the centre table and waited for the people to come.

Celak walked through the town with his tight black gear on, keeping to what little shadows existed. He had just stolen the purse from a very rich man, and was making his escape as clean as possible. He had one dagger in hand, with the ones on his left forearm, hips, and both boots still sheathed. His short sword clung to his back by the dark leather strap it was attached. His stark white hair was covered by his black hood, and his toneless skin was covered by a darker film, given to him by a small time alchemist. Celak looked around and realized the man's gaurds had passed his position and darted into the crowded street. He saw a leaflet saying something about light, and then saw the words "Headsmans Inn" and took off at full speed. He arrived at the inn and quickly wiped away all the film off his showing skin, revealing the pale white of his forearms and lower legs He flipped his hood back and ran his hand through his white hair. He entered the inn, and his attention was instantly drawn towards the woman with the Tellaborder garments. He looked at her with his light pink eyes and walked over. "Hello, ma'am, I read something about a quest of some sorts? I was wondering if you would mind me joining your little expidition," he stated clearly in a statly manner not that of a common rouge.

Logged

"Try to kill me, I'll be laughing," Celak

"You want to know who I am? Or WHAT I am? There is a huge difference," Kui

"Assassinate the assassin, then shoot the plane down!" Saul

"I once ate a skinned cat. It's owner didn't like me much after that," Dave

Melody looke up from her drink at the new arrival, she stared long and hard at the mans full head of white hair and his pale face. "It would be my pleasure for you to join me in this quest, it will be dangerous but it must be done" Melody nodded her head towards a chair to the left of her "Sit have a drink" She lifted her hand and the bartender made his way over to the table

he heard footsteps running towards him through the darkness of the night, the quiet sching as Liessi slowly slid his katana from its scabbard, watching a shadowy out line appear through the trees at the edge of the clearing. Liessi drew back as the figure lit a torch revealing a small hole in the ground and a shovel implanted in the earth. Liessi pulled his hood up, grabbed something out of the hole and was leaving when he found a flyer on the ground in his path. the man must've dropped it he glanced at it then left for the 'The headsmans' inn.

Logged

"Watch for the shadow of darkness, then, and only then will you see true evil" - Liessi

Boistrous laughter echoed from the middle of a large, drunk crowd across the other side of the main room of the headsman's inn. The centre of the crowd and the source of the deepest, loudest laughter came from a man seated at the head of a table. The man seemed to be early to mid-thirties in age, with a Trim beard lining his face and short, black hair crowning his head. His sturdy frame suggested he was fighting fit. In his hand, he held six or so leaflets - it seems he had been wandering through the town and had plucked a number of them from the various posting places, effectively lowering the chance that people would notice them. Now, however, he was waving the leaflets emphatically around at random members of the company he was with, his derisive tone reading off the leaflets loudly enough for half the tavern to hear, "And, and... listen to this! 'Once a suitable party is found, we shall head north to attempt to destroy the crystal orb' Ha!" The man burst out into laughter once more, and after several seconds of calming himself, he spoke amusedly to his drunken comrades, "I've heard that crystal light burns a person to bone in less than ten seconds if one cannot find shelter from it! What kind of fool would take this mission!? I bet not even the great wizard Aerthin would have the gall to stop that light. 'Course, Aerthin was always a bit loose in the head, if you know what I mean!" The man chortled again, accompanied by his choir of inebriates, and he raised a pitcher of ale, downing the dregs then sitting the empty pitcher on five of the six leaflets, using them as a coaster. A good half-dozen other empty pitchers sitting next to the man suggested he was quite intoxicated himself. Interestingly, a hard-cover tome rested next to the man as well, a silver-chained bookmark rested between the folds of pages. Finally, he read the last segment of the final leaflet he held in his hand, "And it says here that if you are interested in stopping the Crystal Light, you can meet someone named Melody in the Headsman's inn! Ha! I wonder how many... er..." The man trailed off as he realised that was the name of the very inn he was at now. Slowly, he peered across the room, studying each person in it casually, trying not to draw too much attention, though he'd already failed that with his laughter and pamphlet reading.

A stout man, as burly as he was portly, pushed the door open with his knee as he dragged a heavy case into the barroom. A shrub-like moustache obscured the man’s mouth as he called out, “I read that someone here was putting together an expedition to deal with that lethal crystal orb to the North!” Peering myopically through his pince-nez, he continued loudly asking as he dragged his heavy case across the crowded room. “The flyer mentions someone named Melanie! Is there a Melanie here?”

Finding a table suited for his needs, the man heaved the cumbersome wooden box onto the table with a heroic grunt. Heaving it up onto its end, he began unlatching the container’s sturdy catches, giving anyone in the room that cared to look a glimpse of the legend emblazoned upon it:

CONTENTS: STELLISCAFF ARMOUR

DANGER: CONTAINS CAUSTIC MATERIALS

PROPERTY OFWILLISHIER P. SERAPHISS, ESQUIREN. S. G. Q. P.

THIS SIDE UP

With a dramatic flourish, the man threw open the case, commenting “You may have others willing to head North, but I doubt that they have anything like THIS!”

Revealed inside was a bizarre harness of gleaming silvery metal, its every part polished to a mirror finish. Tubes and valves projected from various parts of the armor, apparently meant to connect to small glass orbs that were neatly stored in a rack arranged along one side of the chest. Folded in the case with the rest of the gear was a suit of rough grayish fibers, apparently meant to serve as padding under the unusual armor.

After the spectacle that the drunken man reading the flyers and the entry of the odd man with his trunk, the young man who quietly stood up wasn't really impressive. He'd been sitting near the boistrous fellow, but now had a thoughtful expression. Tellas was slender and on the small side, with dark hair that reached down to his shoulders and partially obscured his face. He was wearing clothes that looked like they had at one point been expensive, but he'd had them so long that they were worn and faded. He didn't appear to have any weapons except for the wooden staff he was leaning on.

"This is the Headsman's Inn, isn't it?" He had a quiet way of speaking, and over the din of the tavern it was a little difficult to hear. He turned around slowly as if scanning the room, and finally oriented on Melody's table. He approached and bowed in her general direction. "If you are the one forming this party, may I offer my services? If this light is such that you must avoid it or die, then you might require the aid of one who is not bothered by the dark."

The intoxicated man ceased his scanning of the place at the arrival of a crate-wielding man, and - his search for Melody forgotten - he nudged a nearby patron good-naturedly before pointing at the newcomer, "Oi, give this a look! He's brought a coffin into the bar!" With that, he stood from his seat at the table, snatched that hard-covered tome and turned in the direction of the man who now had the crate up on a table, "Hey! Whatchoo got there, son!?" The drunkard lumbered forward stoically... for the first two steps, before his inebriated state caused him to stumble wildly off-course, barging rudely into the quiet, staff-wielding man before regaining his balance. Without so much as a word of apology, the man continued on his course, stopping just before the crate and peering in, "Woah - thash a pretty shoot of armor ya got there, my friend!" The man peered closely at the reflective, ornate armor, studying his own face in the reflection. In that mirror of steel, the man noticed his own face becoming noticably green. He then felt a distinct tingle in his throat, and by the time he realised what was happening, it was too late - he opened his mouth and let fly! A stream of the nights labour of alcohol poured from his mouth, the sickening ichor splattering all over the lower-half of the previously polished suit of armor and soaking into the wood of the crate it was held in!

The unexpected impact from behind knocked Tellas nearly off his feet, and he dropped his staff. He snarled to himself; clearly that was the drunken idiot from before. He felt around the floor for a moment before finding his staff; it hadn't rolled far. Then he stood up, fuming. The fool wasn't hard to find, he was making a hell of a racket. Tellas stood still for a moment, gripping his staff with both hands and making sure he had the position right. Then he swung hard and low, sweeping the other man's feet out from under him and sending him to the floor. "Pay attention to where you're going, you fool!"

His stomach thoroughly emptied, the drunkard remained bent over, gasping for breath. He did manage a few words to the owner of the crate, however, "Oh! I've gotten gunk all over you..." *Thunk* the wooden staff of the man he had just bumped into scooped him off his feet - and the lubrication from his own stomach contents didn't much help his balance, either! With a surprised yelp, the man crashed unceremoniously to the floor, and he gasped in shock - not at the tripping, but because his left hand fumbled, and the hard-covered black book he was holding slipped from his grasp. To the drunkard, it seemed like that book fell in slow motion: he watched as it bounced once on the floor, flipped halfway then bounced once again. The flimsy lock on it snapped open with the impact and the worn pages flew open. Finally, the book landed spread-eagled, a random page opened. For one long second the entire room was silent. Then, a faint wailing sound of despair echoed - the sound seemedly coming from the book itself. Random letters and images swirled chaotically on the opened page, and a cold breeze began to blow outward from the paper.The torchlight in the room flickered weakly, and the room began to skip - as though everything within it were caught in the groove of a scratched record and time was skipping randomly.. the wind and that faint wailing increased in sound; the call of a howling wind and a cacophony of tortured souls reverberated around the room, the sound and wind chilling to the bone until *BAM!* Everything stopped. The drunkard had managed to crawl over to the book and had slammed his open hand hard against its opened pages. With his touch all signs that anything was even wrong disappeared in an instant. With a subdued grunt, the man closed the book and clicked the small lock back in place. With a short glare at the person who had dripped him over, he slung the book beneath his arm and snatched another pitcher of ale before secluding himself in a quiet corner of the room and quietly seething.

Tellas gripped his staff tighter when the wind and the eerie sound started. The noise disoriented him, and milky white eyes widened in anxiety. Where was it coming from? He couldn't place the source, and it was getting worse. He started to become afraid; if he couldn't find where the threat was coming from, he was essentially helpless... What was that? Where was it coming from? What in god's name was it?!

He tried to force himself to remain calm, panicking would only confuse him more. The noise grew louder and the wind colder, and he was very close to lashing out at random, hoping to hit anything. Then, *BAM!* It stopped as suddenly as it had begun, leaving him standing there, sweating and trembling slightly. He strained to listen, but all he heard was someone moving around, picking something up. Nothing that was a threat. It still took him a few moments to compose himself, but he finally relaxed. "A cute trick," he said sourly to no one in particular.

“I say! I say!” sputtered the thoroughly infuriated inventor as he surveyed the damage wrought by the inconsiderate barfly. “This is a precision piece of equipment, wrought at great expense, and representing the fruit of months of effort!”

As he futilely tried to wipe clean the thoroughly contaminated armor and its case, Professor Seraphiss considered how lucky they all were that the idiot hadn’t shattered any of the fragile globes of liquid within the case. He might have started a fire, spilled caustic acid, or worse! As it was, the nitwit’s vile rotgut had clearly damaged the tertiary sibilantors and possibly the radial flanges, as well. The armor’s efficiency would be reduced by nearly a quarter of its full powers!

Enraged, the Professor turned to face the drunken fool, who had apparently tripped over his own two feet and was being upbraided by a young man with some sort of a pole. As he turned, a strange wind vibrated the entire structure. “What? What?” he gasped in bewilderment as the strange oscillation increased in severity. It took mere moments for the scientist to realize that the oscillation was not a wind at all but some sort of spatio-temporal anamoly! How could he stop such a thing?

No sooner had he started to reach into his case than the strange phenomenon ceased as suddenly as it had begun. He began to pull strange-looking instruments out of his case and check them against the default readings associated with normality. This event wouldn’t be a mystery much longer!

Celak watched everything closely, The drunk man roaring with laughter, then realizing where he was, the man and his box showing off the quite unusual armor, then the man with the staff as he walked over. Celak watched as the drunkard bumped into the staff holder, and then as the staff holder bashed the legs from under the drunk. Please not another bar fight, I don't want to have to kill drunks and fools in front of the lady, he thought. Then the room was spinning, and Celak heard whistleing. Celak looked around, and with his precise sight from being a rouge, saw the open book on the floor. He watched hard and carefully as the drunk slammed the book shut, and everything stopped. "Well then, my drunk friend, I notice your quite through making fun of my fine companion, Melody, I'll ask you a question. What is contained within that rare book you hold? I've heard of something that does that, but thought it a mere rumor," Celak said in his stately tone. He quickly looked to the obviously blind man with his staff, and to the obvious inventor. The blind man, a mage mabye? And the inventor, a over rightous fool perhaps, but both may be useful, more so with this drunk, who looks to be a first class warrior, he speculated. "Well, Melody? The man with the staff has offered his assistance, and the man with the armor seems to be here because of your leaflet. They both look quite capable of traveling, and if I'm correct about the man with the staff, he's as blind as a bat," Celak said to her, then looking to the blind man, "No disrespect intended. However, the drunk looks to be quite a capable warrior, and by my calculations, you, the blind man, that inventor, the drunken warrior, and myself should be able to handle this Crystal Orb that needs destroyed," Celak stated in his noble tone. Glancing around at everyone to make sure they all heard him, he slid his chair back and put his feet on the table, sipping his firewine he waited to see if he was as good at observation as everyone told him.

Logged

"Try to kill me, I'll be laughing," Celak

"You want to know who I am? Or WHAT I am? There is a huge difference," Kui

"Assassinate the assassin, then shoot the plane down!" Saul

"I once ate a skinned cat. It's owner didn't like me much after that," Dave

The drunk tapped his fingers idly atop his hard-cover book, which was now rested on the table before him. From the nearby table, a white-haired man inquired about his book. After a moments silence, the man replied curtly, "It is my work, and has nothing to do with you." Clearly, the was now in a bad mood, and he glared silently at the man and the woman seated at the table across from him. " 'the drunk looks like a capable warrior' Psh!" he snorted softly and rose, snatching his book and stalking to their table and twisting a chair, sitting on it backwards, with its back touching his front. He did wince slightly as the toxins in him caused him to misjudge his drop, causing a sharp pain in a very delicate place, but he hid it well, to retain the illusion of anger, "Now, unless i'm mistaken, I was the one who just moments ago was slandering your cause! And you now speak as though you've conscripted me for service? Feh! What could you possibly give me that will convince me to go on a fool's mission!?" Abruptly, his stomach grumbled in a very dissatisfying manner again, but he swallowed and held the bile at bay, awaiting an answer.

The wizened old man sloughed towards the bar, a heavy rucksack over his shoulder. He shifted the weight of the bag and muttered under his breath as he entered the bar, largely ignoring the other patrons. He was here to see about the flyer. With a grunt he sat the sack down as easily as he could, no need to disturb it any more than it had been disturbed. He gestured and muttered a short incantation, binding the sack from thieves and from leaving the tavern. That had happened once already and had been hell getting it back. Volrish wiped at his face with the sleeve of his robe and started looking for the petitioner of this particular quest.

"I'm looking for Melody, the petitioner to have the Crystal Orb destroyed," He looked for a few before he finally found the woman. She smelled like confidence and metal, likely armored under her gear, not an uncommon custom of the northerners. "Volrish Jokulsmorder, of Praxingdrell, master of the seven-fold flame, and witness of Atma, the World Destroyer at your service," he said, apeing a bow to the woman, though it was little more than a twitch of the head. He didn't bow so well at the midsection any more.

The drunkard, interrupted in his questioning by a wizened newcomer, turned to face this "Volrish" and give him some tongue, "Excuse me! Can't you see we're in the middle of... wait." The man paused to consider the old relic's words, his alcohol-riddled mind struggling to catch up. Abruptly he burst into derisive laughter, "Volrish Jokelshmendrix!" he slurred, "Master of the seven-fold flame! Haha! You are crazed! Nobody can master the seven-fold flame! It is like putting a leather collar around the dragons neck and telling it that it is your slave! The Seven-fold is a fools theory!" He blinked, then lapsed back into silence. Still, his gaze lingered on Volrish a second longer than it should have before turning back to the other two at the table.

“Astounding!” exclaimed the beefy professor as he analyzed the strange magical currents that his instrument revealed to him. “My Thaumometric Arcerometer registers a disruption in the mana field, as would be expected, yet the discharge occurred in over six bands! Six bands, I say! That’s raw, unshaped magic! We’re fortunate that we weren’t drawn into a parallel dimension, turned into insects, or the like!”

He turned to address the drunken mage that had been at the center of the discharge, his anger at the man’s disgusting upheaval temporarily superseded by patronizing concern. “You, sir, must maintain better control of your magics! A reckless display like that is inexcusable, whether you’re inebriated or not! I note that you are evidently a…” He searched for a phrase that was suitably courteous, “a man of learning. Despite your rather naïve assertions about the mysteries peculiar to the Brethren of the Flame, you certainly know better than to risk people’s lives and sanity so rashly!”

Not giving the unfortunate drunk a moment to get a word in, the well-fed inventor put his hand out to greet the newly arrived mage. “Greetings, sir! I am known as Willisher P. Seraphiss, Professor of Artificial Magics and Initiate of the Brazen Portal...”

It appeared that the inventor intended to continue his introduction, but a noise from the tavern’s entrance drew his attention. A group of five men had entered the room. Shrouded in enveloping cloaks of charcoal grey and wearing broad-brimmed hats, their pallid faces were almost entirely hidden. All that could be made out was their red-rimmed eyes, glaring cruelly at the assembled patrons. Despite the warmth of the crowded barroom, the strange men seemed to be shivering with cold.

Two men settled beside the room’s entrance and two others flanked their sinister leader as he strode arrogantly into the room. A strange and ugly helmet, entirely covered with jagged excrescences, hid his eyes, but the cruel hiss of his voice carried through the room. “I ham looking fhor the onesss that postehd thisss,” he hissed, displaying one of the posted flyers as he and his men drew strange scepters from beneath their robes. In unison, the men’s scepters jerked in their hands as jagged projections popped forth from each device with loud, metallic clicks. A smell of ozone filled the bar’s stale air.

Melody had been enjoying herself thouroghly untill the noise had pierced the air, She had just started to enjoy the scenes going on in front of her when the five men waltzed into the inn. This was either going to turn out very bad or very good. "I accept the help of you all. I will need all the help that i can get. Now why would you be looking for me have i done anything wrong?" melody asked in her soft seductive voice batting her eyelids a couple of times, but pulling her sword out from underneath the table and holding it at her side, just incase anything was to happen, she scanned the quiet inn most of the other patrons had become silent with all the things that had happened in a short amount of time, but now all of there eyes were fixed on the five figures who seemed to hiss like snakes did when angry.

His eyes hidden beneath the strange helmet, the bizarre figure turned to respond to the girl that had answered his query. “You shall not interfere with the blessing of the Crimson Goddessss! It’sss comfort shall be oursssss!”

As one, he and his ominous minions held forth their scepters and began to chant in syllables no human throat could shape. A nimbus of greenish light began to gather around each scepter, flickering with ghostly discharges toward each of the objects and people around the grim figures. The mages could sense the eldritch power of the things rapidly reaching a climax.

"Stop them!" called Professor Seraphiss, as he recognized the inferno that the figures were preparing to unleash upon the helpless patrons of the bar. "Those are Phlogiston Rods!"

Melody moved as soon as the professor had said 'stop them' bringing her arm back she underarm threw a dagger towards one of the ugly snake-like things hitting it in the hand which held the sceptor, But she didn't wait to see what happened she had whirled around and shouted at the top of her voice "You wish to join this quest? Well lets see what you've got" smiling she raised her sword and with a quick movement slashed down at one of the other creatures.

"Phlogiston rods?" Volrish said with a sneer of contempt, "child's playthings. Let me show you what burning really is." He thrust out his hand and a great whoosh the cracking nimbus of the leader's rod went out and there was a cracking noise as the rod itself was suddenly glowing with a scarlet hue. The creature had a second to let out a raspy hiss of pain as it's hand melted around the rod and it's flesh flowed like hot wax. The smell of boiling blood and fat reaching flash heat was sickening. Flames burst from the hand holding the now crumbling Phlogiston Rod, and a thick oily smoke roiled from the creature's gaping maw even as the muscles of it's face ran like wet paint.

In a matter of a few seconds the leader of the hissing humanoids was nothing more than greasy ash, his once formidable rod now looking like a piece of charcoal rescued from a hot fire. "That is how you do that." he said.

In the corner, his bag rustled, drawing his attention away from the hissing ones. "Not now," he scowled.

What were these strange newcomers, and why could he feel a gut-wrenching feeling of magics building up from their weapons? Bah! Can't a man have a peaceful night of drinking without having to fight for his life!? His questions forgotten, he rose from his chair and turned to face the assailants - only to see the wrinkled fossil thrust out his hand, and ignite the foremost creature, turning it into liquid then ash. Aerthin swallowed nervously; perhaps there was some power to his claim after all...!Still, this was no time to gawk over old men! Almost casually, he flicked open the lock in his book and flipped the pages over - no strange happenings occured this time, and he smiled as he found the page he was after - those who looked would have noticed no writing on the page. Holding the book in his left hand, he placed his five right fingertips against the paper. Wisps of an azure haze began to circle the page in a pattern, bieng drawn towards the fingertips and transferring to the mans skin like spilled ink is soaked up by a sponge. The purple haze now circling in an almost unimpressive nimbus around his hand, Aerthin pointed his fingertips at the phlogiston rod held by the far left creature. Without warning, and much to the creature's surprise, the rod ceased its glowing, and then began to move of its own accord. The metal weapon swung violently - directly at its owners head, smashing it to a pulp. Those who could not sense the magic at hand could only have assumed that the foe had struck his own head, as he was still holding the weapon.The creature crumpled to the ground, knocked out by the blow, but the weapon did not stop there - with a violent thrust it broke free of its holders grasp, floating in the air. Animated thusly, it continued its barrage of the head of the beasts unconscious form, smushing it until it was nothing more than a bloody pulp. When nothing but jelly remained, the weapon suddenly jerked, then fell lifeless at the feet of its now-headless owner. Aerthin smiled faintly and flicked through his book for another spell...

Tellas had started to growl at the one who'd made the comment about being blind as a bat, but before he could, strangers entered the bar. Judging from what the others said, they weren't welcome. "I'll show you what a blind man can do," Tellas snapped. Fortunately, the strangers sounded odd compared to the rest of the people there. He heard one fall, apparently one of the others had gotten him. Their weapons stunk of ozone; that just made it easier for him to smash his staff into the nearest one. He smiled in satisfaction as he felt the impact with the man's side; hard enough to break ribs. Then the other end of the staff came up, and tangled with the weapon he held. For a moment, the two of them were still as each tried to force the other's weapon away. Then Tellas shifted and let the man bear down on him. He over-balanced, pitching forward as Tellas rolled backwards. A well placed kick to the midsection sent him flying over Tellas's head, then Tellas used the momentum to roll quickly to his feet, searching for his next target.